Getaway
by bbybear85
Summary: Pasts collide. Some pairings are seemingly cursed with violence. 1xR Broken pairing. Nearly 20 years post-EW.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.**

Sleek. Smooth. Shiny.

The Lieutenant Colonel knew that the purpose of the precision of hairstyle was to keep it from being a distraction to her in uniform, but it was treated by the prouder female officers as a sort of badge of honor. Like their glistening black boots, shined until you could see your eyes reflecting back at you, the hair was kept so tightly and perfectly, it really did rival the glimmering of the starry night sky.

Of course there were those who kept their hair so short it hung free about their face, (namely the Chief of Staff's wife, General Noin,) but any self respecting officer took her skin and hair care as seriously as any other part of her uniform or appearance. She was, after all, representing the Martian Militia, and even the people of Mars. With Earthlings arriving, this very day, and being the youngest of the senior officers at barely twenty years of age, it was important that the girl was on her best behavior. No matter what anyone might say, she considered the dress and appearance protocol as important as any other.

She slipped a bullet proof vest over her camisole and pressed it to her chest as she tightened in the sides to fit. Her commanding officer had been adamant, in recent months, that the women were in need of a smaller sized vest, but she knew that was her doing. She observed the close fit and smiled, remembering the look of surprise on his face the first time he'd seen her slip the male model over her head without loosening it. Again and again he had told her she could just tighten it to fit, but that evening her patience with his aloofness paid off. He struggled with it, proving that it wouldn't tighten further, and yet it had never slowed down her undress. Sleeping with the Commander had its privileges, after all.

Watching the back and forth between her lover and Chief Commander General Wind from the sidelines was entertaining, as well. She'd suspected, when she was younger, that the two—whose eyes sharpened whenever they met—were fierce rivals, but she came to understand as they bickered over military supply costs and value that their relationship was more like that of brothers. Loyal, yes, but they were brothers who kind of hated each other and would never actually ever discuss _why_. Each agitated the other, like one might grow surly with a rock in their shoe.

She pulled her blouse up, over the black vest, and turned on her heel as she folded the buttons through their slots. Through the darkness of the plain, nearly empty room she could see the spark of his eyes, watching her.

"What?" She asked through a grin.

"Where are you going?"

The question seemed silly between them. Though she seldom worked directly with him—likely the only reason he'd finally given in to her incessant flirting—she knew he knew her schedule better than she did. Furthermore he had personally hand selected her to head up this task force. She knew that it was a show of great honor and trust in her that he would give her lead on such a high priority mission.

"Well," she answered, just to humor him. "Port Victoria, if you must know. Apparently some big name representative is coming from Earth to meet with the Chief, or some such nonsense."

"Hn." He turned his eyes away with a cool disinterest.

"Heero?"

The General looked back up from his bed, tangled in the messy sheets. Somehow, even in this state of undress, she was always impressed with his dominant presence. It was one of the reasons she'd always loved him—one of the reasons she'd pursued him so shamelessly when she returned home—one of the reasons she tolerated his apparent disinterest in her passions. His enigmatic demeanor added to the sex appeal. She could wait for him to profess love as long as he was still so—so Heero Yuy.

"Thank you for this opportunity. I promise. I won't—"

Heero raised his hand to stop her. "Look. If I'd allowed anyone else to do this job, I'm sure it would have been screwed up, and frankly, the less I see Zechs during this visit, the better."

There it was, again. " _Zechs."_ She sometimes wondered what Heero meant when he called his ranking officer by the infamous Lightning Count's name. There did appear to be a slight physical resemblance, but the comment mostly seemed to spawn from introspective moments and emotional behavior—bouts of which she'd only just noticed he had—so the occasions were few and private. Of course everyone knew Zechs Marquise had died, but she couldn't shake the oddness of the remarks. Even with their long standing (however shallow) animosity, there was no sensible reason, she gathered, to insult Wind with the name of a notorious officer of the Oz Organization. The legendary Oz conflict was long before her time, but even she knew who Zechs was and what a stain it would be, should the General ever hear it.

"I just know that he wasn't very pleased with your passing it off to anyone, really, and I realize that you only would have given it to me because you trust in my skills. Not—" She smiled and flushed slightly. "I trust you," she concluded, leaving the rest of the line of thought for his inferences. Heero was not one to show favoritism when he needed a job done. If anything she wondered if he avoided opportunities to reward her equally to her peers because of their relationship. He'd picked her because she would do it well, and nothing anyone could say would change that.

 _Not that anyone would say anything._ She turned back, frowning into the mirror as she twisted the remaining length of her ponytail up into a bun atop her head. Heero would never admit to their relationship publicly. In fact, he never would admit that it was really a _relationship_ , per se, to her even. She knew that some people had their suspicions, but it was nothing that could really be substantiated, and the misgivings were kept in incredulous, sideways glances and whispers just behind her in the hallway.

She felt confident, though, that she would yet have a commitment from him.

The brunette strapped her weapon holster onto her side, reaching for her jacket.

"Lydia?" He called out in a deep voice, not bothering to move from his lounging position on the mattress.

"Hm?" Her eyes were bright and awake, in spite of the ungodly hour.

"Be safe."

Perhaps, she knew, that was the closest she would get to a profession of love for the time being.

 _I'll take it,_ she smiled.

* * *

The girl's seafoam blue eyes flew across the letters on the page with lightening proficiency.

"What are you reading?" Leland called from across the walkway.

She paused, only for a moment, and turned her attention back to her task. "The Naval War of 1812," she answered in an innocent, crystalline voice.

Her mother hid a satisfied smile and continued with her own work.

"How can you read that? You're a nine-year-old." At the surface Leland Marks was charismatic and approachable, but his wife flinched at the tinge of criticism in his voice.

"Maybe she has a report to do on it, Leland," the older woman commented, disguising her defensiveness with a hasty tone.

"No," the girl answered, killing the peacemaking attempt. "It's just interesting, is all."

Leland rose, striding the aisle in a step and a half, and he swept the book from under the girl's nose. "That's not _interesting_. Read about fairy tales. Or boys. Don't be a dork."

"Leland," the mother warned in a sharp whisper, but as soon as his eyes fell on her, she turned her gaze down and away.

He moved back to his seat, tossing the book aside with distaste. "This is going to be a long enough trip, Juliet," he scolded. "It's going to help no one if you indulge in your awkward entertainments. Find something more _normal_ to focus on."

"There will be few other children there," the blonde mother spit out, again, training her eyes on her tight fist. "I'm sure your daughter will be perfectly fine, whatever happens."

"Even in scarcely populated places, Relena, there is a sense of what's normal and what's not. She needs to behave within that norm."

"There is nothing inherently _ab_ normal about being introverted or interested in books," she rebutted and stole a wary glance.

Leland sat tall in his chair, raising his head to full stature. The speckled grey in his hair only seemed to darken his already shadowy glare. "She's not an introvert and she doesn't need to be a nerd, and that's my final say on the subject."

Relena focussed on breathing deeply and turned her attention back to her work. Her experience was clear. There was nothing more she could in spite of how deep the ache went into her mother's heart.

The shuttle began to jolt and rattle around them. Relena closed her notebook and tucked it away in a black case at her feet.

"Foreign Minister?" A familiar Chinese face came into view.

Relena tried to suppress a relieved smile. "Wufei."

He frowned. "Valhalla is in view. We'll be landing at Port Victoria shortly. I'll personally be handing you and your family over to the Chief's security detail." He studied Leland with an icy glare and turned his attention back to her. "I can, of course, remain with you, if you'd prefer."

Relena folded her hands in her lap demurely and shook her head. "Thank you, no." She gestured for Juliet to come beside her. "We'll be fine, I'm sure."

Wufei disappeared from the cabin to allow the Marks family to gather their things and prepare for disembarkment, but in the last moments before the hatch opened, she found him just over her shoulder again to make a final plea. "I should stay with you, Foreign Minister."

Relena silently turned her head. "I can handle myself."

The craft had come to a halt, and her eyes wandered the vermilion miles around the city. Valhalla was a small, overpopulated municipal in the middle of the Martian wilderness. It wasn't much to look at, but it offered hope for many men and women, and Relena was not going to let them feel forgotten.

"One should keep their wits about them in hell."

She turned at met his cobalt gaze.

"Your brother won't be the only demon here. There are others who have survived the war. You never know what monsters you might find wandering the plains of Purgatory."

The hatch hissed open and a tall, young brunette woman came into view. She studied the eyes of each of the planet's other guests before turning her attention onto the former Queen. Without instruction, she inclined herself in greeting.

"I am Lieutenant Colonel Lydia Pritchard, madam. I will be your primary escort for the duration of your stay."

"Colonel?" Chang stepped between the officer and Relena. "You're awfully young for a Colonel, aren't you?"

The ice blue eyes fixed on him with translike power in spite of her offense. "I assure you, Preventer, I have earned my station." She answered the root of his concern directly. "Your charge will be safe, here."

Wufei moved to speak, again, but Relena's hand on his arm stilled him.

"I'm sure we'll be fine. I trust Chief Wind's judgement, after all. Don't you, Preventer Chang?"

The Chinese man frowned, imploring her, again, in silence. She shook her head and stepped into the artificially enhanced light of the Martian Colony.

Moving to the side of the platform, she allowed her luggage to pass on ahead as she took in her surroundings. Mars was a new world to her, in every possible meaning, but she found the scenery disappointing. It really was just a broad red desert, at the center of which sat the crowded city she was going to be staying in. Valhalla.

Relena's thoughts went to her brother as she wondered how he'd chosen the name. She imagined the look of amused horror on Lucrezia's face when he made it official, and it brought a small, anxious smile to her lips.

The blonde's fingertips brushed the very edge of her shirt cuffs, near her palm, from nervous habit, but she trained herself in stillness, forcing her active hand away.

A bar caught her attention few yards away from the landing, where a man stood, cigarette on his lip, watching with a disinterested expression.

Wufei passed between her and Juliet at the door, following the Colonel down the ramp as he tossed another concerned glance. Relena sighed and rolled her eyes, focusing on the stranger by the eatery.

He slowly pulled his hand from a breast pocket, something familiar glinted in his fingers.

Relena drew a sudden breath, throwing herself at the daughter who stood silently by. She seized the child's jacket collar, pummeling toward the ground beneath them as the explosion wracked her unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing**  
 _Other disclaimer: This is officially AU. Thank you, Frozen Teardrop._

* * *

"—Answer." Zechs' voice was tense and impatient. Evenly spaced in his office stood his wife at his left and Lieutenant Colonel Prichard and General Yuy, both at parade-rest opposite him, as the taller man in civilian clothes lurked quietly in the back.

"Well," Trowa responded, unmoved by the elder man's temper, "the preliminary investigation shows the explosive device to be crude, honestly."

Zechs looked still more annoyed. "He didn't have access to supplies?"

"It wasn't that. We all know there are always plenty of supplies on hand for explosives, especially in an industrial colony like this one. I believe this shows his weak intelligence and lack of planning more than anything." Trowa shifted only slightly as his tone changed. "Which raises a new problem: Was he planning to kill the Foreign Minister or was he simply taking a target of opportunity which would wreak the most havoc?"

The news did nothing for Prichard's mood. She'd already been feeling frustrated and slightly embarrassed at what had happened on her watch. "You're saying this wasn't an act of war?"

"Oh, no. Not just that." The Chief Commander stood to his full height and strode heavily around the desk so he could rest his weight where he looked General Yuy directly in the eye as he scolded the Lieutenant Colonel. "He's saying she was nearly killed by an idiot."

Heero glared back, refusing to show the insecurity his commander hoped to see. "Don't be selfish, Zechs," he warned.

That only agitated the ranking officer. "Selfish? _I'm_ selfish you say? When's the last time I asked you a favor, Yuy?"

"Zechs," Lucrezia warned from behind him with a soft voice that seemed a merge of a hiss and a coo to calm him.

"What was it that was so important today?" The Chief continued, barely taking notice of his wife's precaution. "An inspection? Or shall we discuss the truth of the selfishness that actually almost killed the Foreign Minister?"

Before Prichard could take a moment to register the tone, both Trowa and Lucrezia stepped toward her, gesturing abstractly toward the exit, but neither had a chance to send her on her way when the door was pushed in by a very tired Foreign Minister. Her reading glasses had been haphazardly pressed up into her now disheveled and mussy hair, all caked with red dust and ash, leaving a clear view of her puffy eyes and streaked makeup. Prichard looked back, but Heero didn't budge. His eyes bore into the Chief with a renewed intensity that was almost unsettling to the young Colonel. Relena faltered slightly, but she took a quick survey of the office and marched right to the desk to set herself against the Chief Commander all but bodily pushing aside the General at her back. The closeness was such that he was suddenly captured in the cloud of her scent—a bouquet of soft, floral perfume and hair products smattered in explosives and hot metal that had seared itself into her essence—and a deep, long past part of his memories.

"Give us the room," the stateswoman hissed without looking back.

Colonel Prichard was slightly surprised when Heero responded to the foreigner's command by turning on his heel without debate. She started to follow, but Wind's voice called out still more forcefully.

"Hold."

Lydia wasn't familiar with the glint in her lover's eye as he glared past her at the exit, but it seemed, in all honesty, to be laced with annoyance.

Wind turned his attention on Minister Marks. "I'll be giving the orders on this planet and you won't forget it."

She pressed her lips together with a hint of rage and tugged at the end of her sleeve where the hem met her wrist.

The Chief continued. "I'll gather by your stride that you're here more for business than for pleasure. I'm sure General Yuy will be enlightened by whatever you've come to say."

She swallowed, folding her hands in front of her, and raised her head. "I saw him."

Colonel Prichard took half a step forward in surprise. Heero turned very slowly, watching the blonde woman from the corner of his eye.

"Are you sure?" Wind pressed. He leaned back on the desk, supporting his weight on the palms of his hands as he listened.

Relena raised one brow. "I've been doing this for nearly twenty years. Don't you think I know a remote detonator when I see one?" She pressed two fingers her temple and closed her eyes. "Don't tell me you haven't brought yourself to question how I was able to respond before the explosion. My daughter might have been killed—" She started to say more, but her voice trialed off.

Lydia straightened watching the exchange. It slowly occurred to her that she might have somehow underestimated the intelligence of the Foreign Minister without realizing she'd prejudiced herself. She wondered if maybe Heero might have known that Marks was so aware of her situations and surrounding, thus explaining his passing the assignment on, but then there had been no reason to suspect he'd ever met the politician before. Wind's familial tone with the woman brought into play a whole new world of questions but none really implied that Heero had had dealings with her. Perhaps she had a reputation the Colonel was not otherwise privy to?

"What details do you remember?" The Commander asked, seemingly taking her observations quite seriously.

The stateswoman sighed. "There's a restaurant Port Victoria. Where we'd landed."

"A bar. Yes."

Prichard could sense something in the room begin to give as the two exchanged words. The Chief's tension lifted as years and miles melted away in her presence. The two really had been much closer friends than she might have realized.

Relena shook her head lightly. "He was standing there, smoking. Loitering, really. I couldn't see his eyes," she shrugged. "He had brown hair and he was wearing a green jacket."

Wind groaned and leaned back. "That's not much help, Relena," he said. "That could just as well describe Heero Yuy."

Prichard caught the glance the Chief threw over the Minister's shoulder to General Yuy, who'd somehow managed to gain another half a pace of space between himself and the stranger without being noticed. The blond man was met with a sudden, but threatening scowl.

Relena started. "It hasn't been that long," she scoffed. "Don't you think I would know if it—" She stopped herself in the middle of her argument and shook her head. "It wasn't Heero."

Something about the way Relena had said the name set Lydia's heart racing. It sounded only a little more angry or bitter from any other time she'd heard it, which was understandable considering the situation, but at the word she found herself feeling suddenly quite vulnerable in the older woman's vicinity. It felt of something else on the blonde woman's lips—something secret and intimate.

Wind let slip half an amused grin, but quickly suppressed it as he turned his eyes directly on Lydia. She felt bare, wondering if he could see her insecurity or if he was going to have another go at her for not predicting or managing the attack to his standards. Prichard released the breath she'd been holding when he finally looked back at the foreigner.

"I would know him if I saw him, again," she heard Relena continue.

"I'd hope." The Chief's voice dripped of sarcasm.

"The _man from the restaurant_ ," she clarified.

"Well I can't much have you wandering the streets all day, looking for the man who tried to kill you, now can I?" Chief Wind leaned forward with a trace of mischief in his eyes. "Of course, you're over that pastime, now, aren't you?"

Relena frowned.

The Commander sat back up, so he was the tallest person in the room. He eyed Heero and Trowa, seemingly in thought. "Where's Wufei?"

Relena crossed her arms in front of her as though she'd dominate the conversation with her stubborn stance. "It took a great deal more effort than it was worth, but I finally convinced him to board a shuttle off of this rock."

Zechs looked irritated. "What?"

"There are things I need him to handle for me." She said. "He'll be back in a few days."

"Is this the same Wufei?" Again, Wind's comments left Prichard with more questions about the closeness of his friendship with the Foreign Minister.

The blonde stretched her neck, slightly, and pursed her lips. "I can be persuasive."

"That's not wise," the Commander argued.

"Being persuasive?" Relena raised her eyebrows with feminine smugness.

"That either," the host responded, unprovoked by her attitude. "However, I'm referring to sending away the one _you_ trust."

"Yes, well—he didn't like it much, either," she said.

Wind tapped his fingertips on the desk, training his attention on her. "You're such a pretty brat, sometimes."

Prichard's jaw slacked. Who calls a foreign diplomat a _brat_?! Chief could be unorthodox, but that was flat out degrading. Relena, however, took the remark calmly, offering him no visible response.

"You've gotten used to winning arguments, Relena," he added. "You'll find yourself back out of the habit before you leave my world."

"I wouldn't count on it," she snipped.

"You should be at the hospital," he scolded, ending the previous argument.

Relena sighed.

"Fourteen stitches and a sprained ankle. She's going to want her mother there when she wakes up, you know." Chief Wind's face softened when he looked down on her, this time.

The Minister went to move away, but he spoke, again.

"You should be more careful when you throw your children off of a forty foot landing." The Chief gave her another one of his rare, teasing grins.

"I wouldn't have to," she chided in a renewed spiteful tone, "if your men were doing their job."

Lydia stole another glance at Heero, still at the stateswoman's shoulder. She knew instinctively that the comment reflected more on his choices than her own, somehow, but he remained composed—if not made of granite.

The blond man smiled openly and shook his head.

"What's so funny?" She asked on instinct.

Wind chuckled. "Here we are, again. So far from home. And there you stand, wishing a man dead." He leaned back in his seat and gave her a confident stare. "I'm just glad it isn't me this time."

The blonde woman's face darkened with indignation. "That's not true."

"Who do you think you're going to lie to, little princess?" He said in an uncharacteristically easy sarcasm. "I know your face better than any man alive, Kneehigh. Well," he corrected, " _almost_ any man."

Relena marched toward the door, carefully avoiding eye contact with any of Wind's the other subordinates.

"We're going to see a lot of the back of your head aren't we?" Wind called out, stopping her at the exit. "Not one for being read?"

She threw a warning glance back at him, but said nothing.

Every hint of humor melted away from the Chief's face. "Yuy."

Relena's lips parted but she neither spoke nor moved to leave.

"You went back on our agreement," Wind continued in a resentful and cryptic tone as he rose to his feet. "And it would seem that my _sister_ has sent away the one man she trusted to protect her. It's only fitting, then, that she's stuck with the one that _I_ trust. The Colonel will assist you in keeping after the other two guests."

Heero straightened under his focus. Whatever agreement the two had made, Heero seemed to understand, and made no argument or defense.

"That said, if I see you so far as three feet away from my sister, again, for the remainder of her stay," the Commander paused, emphasizing each word of the threat. "I swear to God, I will kill you this time."

There it was. _Sister._

 _Kneehigh._

 _Of course,_ Lydia realized in a rush. "Zechs Marquise" Heero would call him. It wasn't sinister, dry humor. He meant it. Their Chief Commander, the most powerful man on Mars, was _the_ Zechs Marquise of Earth. He was the bloodchild of the Peacecraft collapse, bent on revenge. Milliardo Peacecraft had survived the war. He was—he was the head of the Martian state.

And Heero knew.

Lydia had known that the red planet became a place for all sorts to come away and start anew, and she understood how that was an appeal to former soldiers of all ranks, but she hadn't really considered the possibility that if the would-be-dictator, Milliardo Peacecraft, had survived the Eve's War, that would be where he'd find his redemption. Of course, the fact that he had not only founded the government on the planet, but his ability to rise to the highest position, in spite of the handicaps he'd placed, seemed fitting when she considered it, as he was bred to take and wield power. Crown prince of the Cinq Kingdom, history recorded him as holding the highest positions in two of the major factions of the great military conflict that had burned and raged twenty years prior.

Questions began to rise to her consciousness about how much he could be trusted, weighing Heero's faith in him and the constitution he'd helped write against what she had been taught about him in her formal education, but before she could give the matter further thought, Relena spoke up, again.

"I don't need a babysitter," the diplomat argued. The coldness of the tone startled Prichard.

"I'll ignore the foolishness of that opinion in your given circumstances, and remind you that it isn't your choice," Wind answered.

Relena turned and stormed from the room. Heero seemed equally bitter when he followed her out.

Lydia let out a long breath before she realized that Chief Wind was glaring at her venomously.

She looked at him, wide eyed.

"Get the hell out," he growled at her, ignoring Trowa and Noin who were still silently at holding up the walls on each end of the room.

Lydia moved without hesitation, doing everything in her power to maintain her stoic posture as she fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing**

Relena looked wordlessly at the door latch for some time before pressing her thumb to it. Like every other door programmed to specific persons' admittance, the microcomputer automatically analyzed her genetic coding and released the lock, allowing her into the family suite. Having made the brief trip from the hospital to her temporary lodging in complete silence, her mind half expected the door to slam behind her when she stepped inside, but she was disappointed. There was a soft noise as the paint coated-metal slapped into contact with a man's calloused hand behind her. Her heart sank. She heard him slowly allow the door to finally fall shut as he followed her in. The reminder grounded her scattered self awareness and intuitive pondering back into the discomfort that had triggered them in the first place.

Heero Yuy.

She sighed. "I'm sure the place has been cleared, but you might want to—" The Foreign Minister's voice trailed off and she wondered if she might appear, given the circumstances of the plan change, to be micromanaging a man she knew was an expert in his field. She found herself feeling unsure if her words might imply a disrespect or distrust in him and his subordinates. She knew the tension didn't need stoked. "I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job," she corrected in an abrupt but weakening tone.

He let out a small, curt sound and moved past her to review his team's previous work.

Pushing thoughts of him aside, Relena was grateful for the work on Mars. She knew that her career couldn't afford her such a long trip from home for family visits, so having her brother at the end of the long road was a pleasant perk. It had only taken her twenty years to come this far. Because of the business, however, she'd been forced to leave her daughter and husband at the hospital to get settled in and finish preparations for her first speaking commitment.

The Minister lowered her head as guilt for her daughter's injuries washed over her. Her hair clouded her face in shadow. "I shouldn't have brought her here," she pondered aloud. "Six months is such a long time for a girl, and I—" The voice tapered off with the hanging consideration, evading a conclusion.

"No one predicted this," the General finally said, continuing his inspection. "It's not your fault."

She found a part of herself irritated by the sound of his voice even as he tried, inexplicably, to offer her comfort. Relena straightened to a regal posture, staring intently into the darkness outside. "Have you finished in the kitchen? It's been a long day. I could use a drink."

He was already scanning the open items in the room and shuffling through the drawers and cabinets. Zechs had seen that the apartment was fully stocked for the planned several week stay, as to avoid Relena having to spend any more time hunting down necessities or even some luxuries than was entirely necessary.

Without a direct signal of any kind, he moved into the dining and living areas in an intentionally wide arc so she could move to the counters he'd inspected without ever crossing his path.

Relena quietly took down a small glass from a shelf above and uncorked the wine. She inhaled the scent of blackberry and plum as she let the drink breathe. The blonde then moved across the small dining area and leaned into the window frame where she could see the sky. Letting out a long sigh, she tried futilely to release the stress of the day.

Relena didn't notice that Heero had turned his attention back onto her as he went about his tasks. She stilled herself and took in the quiet scene of the Milky Way. The Mars Colony land extending far beyond the immediate region of Valhalla had been built into a state-of-the-art atmosphere bubble, built by the Winner Foundation. The clarion alloy was the most translucent version to date and very nearly mimicked the clearest parts of Earth's own natural sky. Since the Martian day was similar in length to that of an Earth day, there was no need to make further visual alterations to the pseudo-atmosphere. For the purpose of terraforming the land, however, the Winners had gone through beyond previous protocol in installing transparent wiring throughout, which would emit an additional artificial sunlight, complete with a healthy form of UV radiation for the soil, the crops, and even the needs of the people. The work, though apparently entirely philanthropic as far as the media and the masses were concerned, had been experimental and had created the first prototype of its kind, allowing the Foundation to begin a new age of production in which they would be able to manufacture better atmospheres for each of the colonies closer to the Earth, and eventually any tertiary colonies that might be built, later on and further away from home.

Relena frowned, studying her glass as she took another sip.

The sky above her, so clearly visible, seemed familiar, and yet there were things that were still just out of place. Unfortunately, with the stress of the day she'd had, the Foreign Minister didn't have any mental energy left to recall the constellations she'd known her whole life. She was disappointed that she couldn't contrast the arrangements she saw from what she had known to find herself on in the map of the universe.

"Darlian?"

Relena turned her attention to Heero, who stood at a second window near the couch. It had been years since anyone had even mistakenly called her by one of her maiden names, but she knew it was only fitting given their history.

Leland wouldn't notice.

His eyes were like flint sparking as her own gaze collided with his. The woman had maneuvered around it for hours, but permanent avoidance was impossible. Relena gathered her strength and stared into the heart of the tempest, feigning the posture of a woman unfazed.

Heero turned back to the night as she had been doing moment before barely gesturing toward her with an upturned and open arm. Relena hesitantly closed the gap between them. As she came to a stop at his side she felt him move back and around her, leaning in so his cheek just brushed her ear.

"You see the clock tower rising from the port?"

She nodded, still unable to really say or think much beyond his proximity.

"There's a triangle just up and to the right. Do you see?"

She shook her head, again, more slowly.

"Those are Denebola, Chertan, and Zosma. It's the constellation of Leo."

Relena lifted her chin, beginning to recognize the shape of the lion.

The scent of his skin and the soft timber of his voice, aged but still his own, distracted her from the very thing he was trying to draw her attention to. "Just left of center, you can see the grey one."

It took another long moment for her to push aside the memories long enough to register the act of kindness. "Is that—?"

"Earth," he answered as he finally pulled up and away from her skin.

The Minister breathed freely, dizzy but grateful to having her personal space returned. "It's dimmer than I'd imagined."

He grunted lightly, and went on examining the communications devices and monitors. "Earth absorbs a lot of energy from the sun. It's far more efficient than the other planets, in that sense. Growing its own flourishing ecosystem takes a toll on how much light it reflects."

Relena could feel a familiar ache in her chest. "It's not nearly as beautiful as it was in my early days."

"You're wrong," he answered as he stopped to look at her. "Nothing has changed. You've only moved further away. It distorts the perspective."

Minister Marks turned in time to see him move on into her bedroom. "We haven't unpacked," she said, realizing only after she'd said it that it wouldn't matter to him. It meant he would have to go through her bags, and what the difference would be between him going through her packed bags and going through her neatly organized drawers she wasn't very clear on, but the thought seemed to give her a light sense of embarrassment.

Relena gave him several minutes before she moved to the door. He was standing over one open case, apparently lost in thought as he stared blankly at the cover of a book.

 _The Prince_ , by Niccolò Machiavelli

"She has unique interests," Relena explained out of habit.

"Hn." He put the book back and closed the satchel. Before the Foreign Minister could comment further, Heero grabbed the full set of purple luggage and carried it past her toward the next room.

"You don't—" she started to argue, but he silenced her with a sidelong glance.

She cleared her throat and moved into the room he'd left, taking in the smell and the feel of it. She knew she had work to do and there was no way she would be able to focus with the door open. "I'm going to be busy," she called out without any response. Her whole body relaxed when the latch clicked shut between them.

She glanced at the clock. It had only been twenty-eight minutes since their arrival. Relena rubbed her forehead. This was going to be a very, very long trip.

Heero settled himself into the windowsill, studying the cityscape around them as the hours trekked by.

His trance was finally broken by the sound of the locks releasing to allow a second party entry. Lydia stepped in first, scanning the room and leveling her stare on him. On a silent cue, they simultaneously turned away. He returned to his meditation as she turned to take Juliet's personal effects from Leland, offering them a welcoming gesture.

Juliet negotiated her way past the soldier, managing her own weight on a bandaged leg and a set of crutches. Lydia offered her support one last time, but the girl laughed it off and moved toward the inner wall of the suite.

"You're wonderful with kids," Leland smiled as he closed the door.

Pritchard looked right at him and offered a calculated grin in response. "It's nothing," she answered. "She's good company."

Leland went on with the banter and Heero snuck a glance in his direction only to find himself facing the object of discussion.

Yuy stared for longer than was his habit as she stubbornly worked her injured body toward him. He'd seen her in the flourescent light of the hospital through the open shades of the window, but then her eyes had been closed and her hair pulled back. Now she came into view and he felt himself falling through time, looking at the spitting image of a young Relena Peacecraft.

Her aquamarine stare only jumped to his for a moment as she pushed her invalid body forward, but it gave him more of a start than he had anticipated.

She hobbled to a stop well within arm's reach of him and stood her crutches together at her side so as to balance herself against them. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she smiled without bothering with the introductions.

He pointedly ignored her at first, but she tilted her head up and locked her gaze on him. "My name is—" She hesitated only slightly when his eyes met hers. The intensity of the stranger's glare was more unsettling than she had expected. "My name is Juliet Marks." She flourished her hand forward, offering him her grasp. "What's yours?"

Heero gaped at her for several seconds. Her golden hair hung straight and long and her eyes were alive, innocent, and compelling. She had the face, he might think, of an angel. A child ghost from his own past, and he wasn't sure he could bring himself to break the spell.

The General's arm moved with a mind of its own, taking her hand in his. "Heero Yuy," he answered.

"Nice to meet you, Heero." She tilted her head and smiled.

It was familiar. Safe.

The General's thoughts fell into sudden silence. He withdrew himself and turned his nose up and away, hiding his thoughts back in the night.

Juliet heard Lydia calling a comment about Heero's lack of a sunny disposition and something about his not intending to bite her, but Leland quickly regained control of that conversation so he could continue to drole on behind her. The girl gave a passive gesture of understanding while still watching Heero with a sort of rapt curiosity.

"You knew my mom, then?"

His eyes darted back to hers quickly and disapprovingly. "No."

She smirked. "They says it's a Peacecraft thing. Apparently we all look alike going back some hundred and fifty years or so."

He looked back down at the street below. "Your uncle tell you that?"

"No one's supposed to know about my uncle," she answered. She had been given strict instructions to keep the family's surviving members a secret, even more so in Valhalla, but she inferred that his mention of it put him on the short exception list.

Heero gave no indication that he'd be explaining himself.

"He doesn't really talk to me, anyway," she went on. "When Mom forces him to facetime with me he just asks me questions he think I can't answer. 'Who's Pythagoras?' 'What's the density of Gundanium alloy?' 'Who's your real father?' You can imagine the type."

Heero's lips parted, looking suddenly at the girl and then the Minister's husband. Seeing no response from the man on the other side of the room, the General turned his attention back to her, but remained silent.

"Oh, goodness," she giggled. "You really _don't_ have a sense of humor." She impulsively touched his arm in a soothing manner.

Heero flinched but he didn't pull away.

"It's a joke. He just has terrible humor. He asks me all the time. Of course Dad is my real father." She paused and pursed her lips in thought before explaining herself further. "I mean, I _can_ add. I know my parents weren't married when I was born, but I am _his_." Being the child of a prolific politician had taken its toll. Juliet was trained to be more worried about starting a rumor that would hurt her mother's reputation than anything. "I hope I didn't give you the wrong impression?"

"No." He shrugged lightly, unconsciously leaning closer to the window.

"You look so serious. I thought I'd actually upset you." She leaned toward her strong leg, scrutinizing his expression. "I guess you just have one of those permanently sad faces."

"Hn."

"That's probably why you look so young, even though your hair is greying."

He shifted like he might turn to her yet again, but he shook it off and continued to peer into the darkness.

"Mom does, too," she went on, "but she has wrinkles on her forehead. I pretend I don't notice, but they're there."

Heero sighed quietly and looked at her brace. "What did they give you for the pain?"

Juliet smiled. "Don't worry. It hurts, but I'm not putting any weight on it."

"You'll injure yourself further by overcompensating. Why aren't you resting and elevating it?"

She pressed her lips together in a playful grin and waited for him to make eye contact. Juliet nodded shyly at the window. "I was really hoping to look around before I had to go to my room. That's the only window I see that has a broad enough sill to sit on."

Heero's frown deepened. "Why didn't you just say so?"

The girl shrugged. "You're handsome and I figured you'd take off as soon as I asked."

He stood over her. "You're right," he answered, watching her another long moment before stepping coldly away.

Heero strode quietly to the kitchenette, avoiding giving any attention to the adults who were still lingering near the door. Leland held his head high and his shoulders straight, smiling his way through a playful conversation of nothings. Finally Relena made an appearance in the previously closed bedroom door, giving him a an unenthusiastic glance before turning and sending her daughter to bed. Another silent look between the Marks couple and Leland was making his excuses to the Colonel so he, too, could turn in for the night.

Lydia paced the living area slowly, straightening the furniture Juliet had bumped into, familiarizing herself with the layout and the view before she worked her way to where Heero stood in silence. She leaned against the counter at his flank listening to the barely audible but apparently heated discussion from the Minister's private room.

She frowned. "I screwed up."

"No."

She blinked and looked up at him.

Heero shook his head and turned to brew himself a cup of coffee. "I reviewed the information and the setting. There were no clues that this might have happened. It was random."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that we couldn't have predicted it." Waiting for the water to come to temperature, he turned his back to it, folding his arms. "But I'm also sure that whoever is behind this will be back. Even if he _is_ an opportunist with no plan, the adrenaline will have gotten in his head. He'll try to come after her again." Behind him the machine sputtered and spat, interrupting his thought for only a moment. "I'll be waiting for him," he added solemnly.

Lydia had a secret smile as she looked over the empty couches.

"Get some sleep," he said softly. He turned his back to her as she acquiesced to the order. She accepted his stoicism as professionalism, but he knew the quiet was what he needed given the mixture of company.

He had a lot to think about.


End file.
